The Other Side of that Goddamn Coin
by VausemanFinishingSchool
Summary: "Kid, with a twist of fuckin' fate it could've been me standin' in those khakis." Or, the AU which nobody asked for or wanted, where Nicky Nichols is a correctional officer at Litchfield Penitentiary, and a very unconventional one at that. A series of ficlets inspired by S2x2. Nichorello.
1. Heroin Robin Hood

_"Do you have any idea that you've just told an inmate in _prison_ that she should be a correctional officer? Uh, what the fuck is wrong with you?" _

* * *

**One - Heroin Robin Hood**

"Count time, kids!"

A gruff, thorough New York accent booms through the hall, and Piper staggers back, bright orange uniform making her more vulnerable to what demon dares to destroy everything in its warpath. She's barely been incarcerated and already everyone has descended upon her, adamant on making her life (or what remains of it anyhow) a pure, pitiful, painful endeavor.

"U-Um..." She stammers, desperately looking to Demarco for a reassurance of any kind. "What do I-"

"Chapman, _relax._" Demarco raises her hands. "This one's a good egg. It's Nichols. She'll give ya candy if she thinks you're hot. Mainly does it with the white people."

"That...doesn't exactly sound like-"

Nicky Nichols sways into the room, boots thumping on the pristine floors and keys jangling at her side like an uneasy windchime. She leers at the inmates with a quality of infinite arrogance most would abhor, a cocksure smirk plastered on drug-addled(?) skin. Her body, though lithe in stature, carries a gargantuan leverage, and it's clear she's capable of profound power. Eyes, coated in mascara, flicker from Demarco, to Miss Rosa, to Mendoza, back to Demarco, then to Piper, where they scrutinise every spectacle of her body in a predatory gaze. Like the hunter on the ascent for its breakfast, relentless in its endeavour until that ghastly hunger is sustained. The personification of rebellion, socks are pulled up above her boots, blue shirt sleeves are rolled back to flash a sampling of tattoos and a wild, untamed mane hangs down loose. Piper gulps, wondering if Demarco is deceiving her, because _this _guard is-

"Yo, Demarco." Nichols nods, clicking her counter. "Found Luke Skywalker yet?"

"Ha." Demarco snorts. "How original, Nichols. And tie the hair back, ya shit for brains."

"Eh, fuck the rules." Nichols shrugs, chuckling. "Now to Miss Rosa 'I Got Cancer' Cisneros." She trudges over to Miss Rosa's bed and repeats the clicker process. "Good to see you're still in the land of the livin', eh?"

Miss Rosa groans weakly, rolling over in the sheets to glare up at Nichols "Good to see you too, asshole..."

"Immigration, Mendoza!" Nichols laughs and clicks the counter once more, looking to a wide-eyed, frenzied, _terrifying_ Mendoza. "Hands up, swords down! This ain't Guatemala!"

Mendoza takes a deep, controlled breath before swiftly commencing with her comeback. "I would kick your fuckin' mouthy white ass if you weren't no CO."

Nichols sniggers, spins on her heels and scans Piper's form once again, but there's a greater intrigue twinkling in her watchful eye. She clicks for a final time, dragging it out slow and steady. "Holy shit, well look what the cat's dragged in. What did you do, Blondie? Kill someone with a kayak?"

Piper frowns, always one to take the literal route. "Well kayaks can't exactly-"

"Tell ya what," Nichols asserts abruptly, holding out her fist, "take a lollipop, kid." She unclenches her fingers and, as if she were committing an act of illusion, unveils the candy in her palm. "Little welcome aboard gift from _moi._ Keep me sweet," her smirk returns, "and you'll get sweet treats."

"Uh...thank you?" Piper reluctantly claims the lollipop; does _she _fufill the criteria of what is 'hot?'

"So I hit the jackpot with the contraband. Snuck in a few nifty lil' things," Nichols delves deep into her pockets. Moments later she pulls out a flip phone and a miniature bottle of alcohol, "I know it ain't the god tier of booze, but yunno, I couldn't exactly _schlep_ a whole fuckin' pint of that shit in my pants."

As Nichols hands the items to Demarco, an instant grin tugs at her lips. "Bless ya, hon. You're a fuckin' gem in that pila' rocks."

Even Mendoza's smiling. "You like Heroin Robin Hood or some shit, kid." She shakes her head. "Just prayin' you don't get caught, y'know? You riskin' your job for us an' all."

So she _i__s _an ex-junkie.

"I do what I can." Nichols shrugs, grappling her belt with both hands. "System's fucked and I'm the only one that gives a shit round here. Even Caputo's too busy sniffin' Fig's genitals to give a damn. But hey, that's life for ya. Someone's gotta pick up the pieces, right?"

"Why?"

Everyone stares Piper's way, eyebrows cocked, and even Miss Rosa peers up from her pillow.

"Why do you do this?" Piper continues, fixing her glare on Nichols, her demeanour cool, collected and mechanical to the touch. "What are _your_ incentives? What do _you _gain from helping us?"

Nichols exhales, and for the first time since her intrusion, a trace of vulnerability drips through the leaking pipe. She rakes a hand through her hair and thrusts it back, exhaling once more. "Look, uh, it could've been me in these beds, Blondie. I ain't exactly a fuckin' matriarch. I've done shit. Shit-shit I ain't proud of. But now I'm here to keep you on the straight n' the narrow."

"Oh. Right." Piper nods, but she still can't comprehend any valid logic behind Nichols' actions; she's definitely a Robin Hood-esque figure (that Piper can agree with Mendoza on), and yet with a certain anti-heroism that just can't be established. Maybe, as she'll slowly grasp the reigns of prison, the queer enigma of Nichols will unfold.

"So, uh," and with that, Nichols' oozing confidence reignites, "I'll see you around, gentlemen," she strides out of the room, but it's not long before she's screaming up the hallway like a banshee, "watch it, Meth Head! People are fuckin' walkin' here...! Oh, you want a shot?! I saw you fuckin' flip me off, inmate!"

"Nichols is a fuckin' legend round here, Chapman." Demarco begins, and Piper glances down at the stout Italian. "She'll let you off your work duties, give ya somethin' a lil' extra in your juice," She winks, hoisting up the bottle, "she's a nice kid. Tries her hardest. Inmates respect her cos' of it. But believe me, she's still an asshole when she's feelin' nasty." Demarco gestures to the doorway. "_Don't_ take advantage."

Hey! Morello!" Nichols' bellowing voice echoes across the building, ricocheting off dreary white walls. "Get your ass over here! Ya give Chapman her cosmetics?!"

"Oh, and she's fuckin' Morello." Mendoza casually adds, whipping out her compact mirror.

And with that, Piper's eyes bulge out in a fit of absolute horror.

"Wait, _what?!"_


	2. Lost Little Lamb

**Two - Lost Little Lamb**

_"Welcome to another shitty day in prison! Fasten your seatbelts, ladies! Get it extra fuckin' loose if you're anythin' below a C-cup! We are now beginning our descent into clitoris heaven!"_

"How the _fuck_ is she allowed to say that?" Piper drones out, countenance invariably incredulous; it's only day two and Officer Nichols continues to befuddle her very sense of rationality, of normality, because _no _sane correctional officer would express such risqué remarks. "_Surely_ that isn't allowed, right? That is _so-"_

"Chapman, chill out_."_ DeMarco chuckles. "Her asshole dad's a hotshot lawyer. One of those fancy ass Manhattanites. So The Litch ain't got no choice but to keep her goin'. Not that I'm complainin'. You just get used to the pervy comments. Ignore 'em. She's a harmless horndog."

Piper frowns, brows creasing on the alight. "You seem to know a lot about her personal life."

"She talks to Morello, Morello talks to me and _bam, _whole fuckin' prison's knowin' her business."

"That's...interesting."

As if rehearsed in a school musical, Officer Nichols saunters into the room, a clipboard in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other. "Mornin', Darth Vader." She nods towards DeMarco, slightly standoffish in her demeanour.

DeMarco rolls her eyes. "CO Nichols. I see ya got kicked outta radio duty again.

"Nah." Nicky steals a breezing second to sip her drink. "Saggy Tits loves me. Now, uh, you seen Morello around? Gotta take her out for van duty in an hour. Errands an' shit, I don't fuckin' know. Just followin' orders."

"What, the orders of your vagina?"

Piper isn't sure why she's said it, gearing up to challenge the _fucking _authority, but it's a foul gamble that's completely below the belt. Officer Nichols is staring straight into her soul, blinking eyes bearing the weight of a thousand witty responses, one eyebrow cocked in a smugly satisfied intrigue. The corners of pressed lips prise into a slight smirk, and Nichols expels an unanticipated chortle. She's frustratingly amused and Piper still can't understand why, but the jolt of numbing fear is swiftly suppressed in her stomach, because Nichols isn't offended. Not by any means.

"It's day two and you're already actin' like a real prisoner, Chapman." Nichols' smirk stretches obscenely wide in width. "I'm proud of you. Nice to see you're embracin' this, uh, _atmospheric_ enlightenment."

"Thank you?"

"Yo, DeMarco," Nichols sharply turns to DeMarco, "where the fuck is the rest of 'Fraggle Rock?'"

"Miss Rosa's havin' an injection and Gloria's in the shower." DeMarco responds, lounging back in her bunk.

"And Junior Gorg? Otherwise known as Miss Coconut?"

"Probably at the orientation. You didn't even count her yesterday, Nichols."

"Yeah, yeah, I'd just finished cleaning up orgasm number five. Don't judge my logic, DeMarco. Now, uh," Nichols peers down at her clipboard, "you got this orientation shit, Chapman. I've gotta take you over there. Starts in ten."

"Okay." Piper nods, sliding out of her bunk and slowly climbing down the rickety ladder.

Piper is certain someone's gaze fixes upon her, gawking like a snide, shifting hawk, but her suspicions are only confirmed when she settles on concrete ground. Officer Nichols scrutinises every spectacle of her body through a hazy gaze, filthy ideas undoubtedly cruising through her thoughts. She's still smirking, cockier than ever, relishing in her beastly desire, but Piper reminds herself that she's just _a harmless horndog._

"Fuck, uh," Nichols murmurs through her daze, "seems to be the week of eye candy."

"What do you mean 'the week of eye candy?'" Piper retorts, never one to let an opponent slide into success.

"Well," Nichols chuckles, "I eye spy with my little lesbian eye, there's someone beginning with a V."

"How am I meant to play if there's _nobody _else in the room?"

"We'll play on the way to orientation. Now c'mon. Get that ass movin', Blondie. I got shit to do."

* * *

They're walking along the pristine, orderly corridors of the prison, orange and blue side-by-side, the opposing ends of the system, Nichols spouting wisecracking nonsense and Piper keeping her mouth intact (for once). She's still unsure what to think of Officer Nichols, if she _should _have an opinion altogether, because every single stereotype regarding a correctional officer is dispelled in the looming mist.

The books never discussed a situation like this. It's _that _rare.

"Sup, Chang?!" Nichols hollers aloud. "What's your ancient Chinese secret?! You put five spice in the laundry powder?!"

Chang shifts in the adjacent direction, her back turned in their view. "Fuck you, dykewad!"

Nichols sniggers. "Me and Chang go way back, Chapman. It all started with that classic cough and squat. Hey, did you know their vaginas actually don't go sideways?"

The question hurls Piper into the thunderstorm, and she's stammering along, struggling to scrimp together a measly response. "N-No, I...I didn't-"

"Yo, Washington! Still rockin' up with that Taystee ol' Poussey...?!" As an odd tranquility arises, Nichols grumbles to herself. "Shit, man. She didn't hear me. What a fuckin' waste."

"So..." Piper trails off, searching to establish _some _conversation. Any conversation. "You're gay, right?"

"Holy fuckin' shit, Chapman." Nichols drawls. "You've only gone and done it. You've discovered the true theory of the universe. I-I can't believe it. You're a goddamn motherfuckin' prodigy."

"Should I take that as a 'yes?'"

Nichols snorts, leering up at Piper. "For one thing, I'm pretty fuckin' offended that you've gotta ask me that. Not sapphic enough for ya?"

Piper gulps, eyes widening, terror on the horizon. "I-I didn't...I didn't mean to-"

"Yo, just chillax, yeah?" Nichols intervenes, abrupt in her stance. "I know this ain't exactly a Buddhist temple smack in the middle of Hokkaido, but you gotta get your mojo goin'. You'll get used to it, kid. Trust me. I know a lost little lamb when I see one."

Piper blinks, _definitely_ unsure what to think of Officer Nichols. "Thank you?"

"Yeah, yeah, anytime. It's cool."


End file.
